From Cnihitlic to Sigeberht
by archeress of silverbow
Summary: A patrol attacked, an unusual reaction, the greatest gift given Written for Teitho "Moments of Transition". Midqul to 'Tuilindo', please read that first


**This was originally written for the Teitho Contest "Moments of Transition" and fits about halfway through my one shot Tuilindo. If you haven't already read that then please do before reading this.**

**Enjoy**

* * *

It should, by all wishes, have been an ordinary patrol. Half an Eored, under the command of Thengel's highest advisor on tactics, scouting the outskirts of Meduseld's personal jurisdiction for signs of trouble. That was something one of their party couldn't understand. Meduseld, by virtue of being the seat of the king, held all of the Mark at its control. Yet it also held this area, as Aldburg held the Westfold. Here was where people would run to Meduseld first for shelter, seeking the king as their lord as much as as their ruler.

He shook his head, this was a strange, complicated land, for all it had seemed simpler when he first arrived. But this duty at least he understood the significance of. To protect, to fight and if required die in defence of those weaker than you. To put yourself between them and danger. That he understood, he understood all too well.

There was perhaps a second of warning for him, as his horse tensed and threw up its head, muscles bunching to run. Then they appeared.

* * *

It was as if the rocks themselves had exploded, spilling blackness over the green grass like winter nightfall. Instinct made him clamp his legs onto the mare and drive her forward towards the attackers, shifting his grip on the reins both to retain control and allow her to fight with him. The orcs sprang on the group, shrieking with their dreadful voices. It made him shake inwardly and his stomach churned. But it wasn't the fear of now that caused such a reaction, but a flitting memory in the back of his mind. _Fire, screams, the crashing of stone... A voice close to his ear in a whisper, then turning away to scream a challenge at some unknown danger_... and some other emotion flared.

* * *

Seasoned rider that he was, Eoforhild nearly fell out of his saddle in fright as a sound half shout and half scream burst through the air. Taking a gasp of the chill autumn air he turned his horse this way and that, fully expecting to have to rescue some wounded man. Instead he saw Cnihtlic, that strange half-lad who was Ealdræd's foster, and the _Fola_ of this patrol. But his eyes didn't see a frightened youngster cowering away from the battle. The lad was sitting high in his saddle and the marshal stared as the tall figure sent the chestnut mare up into a pawing rear, using the required forward lean to slash at an orc nearby with his sword, cleaving it down.

Then the monsters pressed again and he found himself caught in the thick of a battle. No time for overseeing an _Fola_, or for that matter, watching what seemed to be a fascinating warrior. Now all he had to do, and he was hard-pressed to manage it, was survive. Survive and extricate all of his companions he could from this chaos.

* * *

Anger, it was wild anger that seared his veins and body like a flame. He'd lost kith and kin to these monsters before. They were not going to better a scion of Goldolin. He threw back his head, baring his teeth and snarling a challenge. Dumb crazed, mad creatures they might be, elves twisted and bent beyond reason by Morgoth, but they should understand that. He faced them, and prepared to fight to the end.

* * *

They ran. In the blink of an eye they were fleeing, running pell-mell away back across the plains towards the east, screeching with those horrid guttural voices. Eoforhild forced himself not to sag in his saddle and rubbed his eyes to clear the glare from them. For a split second, just before the orcs had run, his vision had filled with a bright white light. There was a gasp, and turning he saw one of the others pointing to Cnihtlic. His heart sank as he turned to look, expecting to see the boy either crumpled in his saddle or sprawled in the grass, slowly bleeding his life away. But Cnihtlic was as straight in the saddle as any of them, is grey eyes slowly softening from their earlier hard rage. He blinked and looked again, bemused by the slight shimmer he thought he saw around the lad. But the eyes that met him dared him to mention anything, a dare he refused.

* * *

Thengel didn't believe him, he could see that much. But both royals heard him out as he related what had occurred, which said something against Gondorian scepticality. Then he fell back slightly from the dais, letting them confer in private and striving to ignore the words that did reach his ears; 'impossible' 'have heard..'. Silent as he seemed, he was inwardly begging they would either dismiss the matter, or do something to honour the lad. Anything, anything but sending him away as dangerous. That would break Ealdræd's heart, and there was no harm in Cnihtlic even though he seemed a bit slow at times

"Fetch Ealdræd, and his foster son"

He bowed deeply and walked away with a smooth stride, determined to hide his inner anxiety.

* * *

Hild opened the door, her face flashing into a jovial smile as she caught sight of him " Ah Eoforhild, welcome"

He stepped inside but brushed off her offer of some ale "The king wishes to see Ealdræd and Cnihtlic... immediately"

Her face sank into a sorrowful frown "It's about what happened on the patrol, isn't it?" He nodded slowly and she continued "He's been so quiet since you got back, barely even talks to Ceadda. We finally found out what was going on yesterday evening when one of the wounded men knocked on the door."

She watched him and he sensed the intensity of that stare, a worry she would not fully admit. In answer he shrugged "I do no know why he is wanted, only that he is.

* * *

The hall was as magnificent as Hild had said. He let his eyes drift, looking everywhere except the two royals on the dais. But eventually he could delay no longer.

Thengel's face was unreadable, as blank as marble stones he remembered seeing. Unconsciously he flicked a glance at Morwen, often the one who told more whether she meant to or not. But the Queen had hidden her face in shadow, she would tell him nothing. He deliberately ignored Ealdræd, but knew the man's face was tight, his body stiff with fear and nerves

"Eoforhild has told us about the patrol" Thengel's voice was bland.

He lowered his eyes, all attempts at taking defeat gracefully abandoned in submission. The silence stretched, seeming to engulf the room. He pressed his eyes shut, but that only made it worse. His heart thumped in his chest and her knew fear again.

"You did well... Sigeberht Eorlinga" His ears heard the words but they made no sense, that enough to panic him as he heard his fosterer gasp. Then, all at once, it hit him.

He had been called Eorlinga, child of Eorl...

He had been named, as he had heard children names spoken in the King's blessing the day after they were born...

He was one of them, he belonged.

* * *

Morwen watched as Cnihtlic... Sigeberht raised his head, revealing silver tears turning his cheeks into small waterfalls. What?, She wondered, had led him up to Edoras a year before, what had he seen to make him cry so at a gift of fellowship. As valuable as she knew it was, for the Rohirrim trusted few strangers to join them, the reaction was still markedly overpowering. Silently, smiling gently, she stepped out of the shadows and made the tiniest gesture with her hand.

_Blessing to you. _

It was meant as comfort, something she had instinctively remembered from her child hood, and the man did smile... but he also cried harder, as if another trapped spring of emotion had been released. He recognised the gesture, it meant something deeper to him.

Forced to admit defeat on this particular character Morwen slipped away, leaving the men to themselves, and allowed the frankly painful memory to gradually be eroded by time. As intriguing as Sigeberht was, he was inconspicuous, falling in easily with all the other Rohirrim, enough to no longer rest at the forefront of her mind.

It was only when the _Dúnadan_ arrived from Gondor, one so elven in style though by blood a man, that her mind began to tickle with thoughts.

But for Sigeberht, he had all he wanted... he had a place to call home, not just by spoken name but deep in his heart.

* * *

**Translations**

**Sigeberht= Bright Victory**

**Cnihtlic= Child**

**_Fola_ =Foal, used in this context to mean a patrol member who has only been on a few small ventures, and yet to fight a true battle. Normally a young man/teenager.**

**Reviews anyone?**


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